It's Toddler Magic!

My son just turned two (like on Friday) and it seems like it's the magic age of change.

Yesterday, he awoke from a paltry, one hour nap. (Seriously, he had been going for two or three hours.) Right now, I'm hearing him babble in his crib during what should be today's nap - take 2. It's like my son turned "2" and he magically doesn't need a nap.

My toddler pulled an even crazier magic trick on me earlier in the day. It was almost like a horror movie, in fact. I put him down for a nap - take 1 - because the little bugger fell asleep in the car. beforehand. He cried a bit in his crib, but I was stinky from the gym and just had to take a shower. My fingers were crossed that he would just fall back asleep.

Took a nice shower, did a great squeegy job on the glass and I even started my minimalist makeup routine before I fired up the hair dryer. I thought, however, that I'd better check on my son before I really get into drying and trying to style my locks.

Outside of his closed door, I could hear his crib squeaking as he tossed and turned, but he wasn't crying, so back I went back to my bathroom to dry my hair.

Then, the magic (or horror) happened.

My son appeared in the double doorway of my bathroom - shirt on, little pee mark wetspots on the lower front part of his shirt and he was completely shortsless (and diaperless too, for that matter.)

I immediately turned off my hairdryer and my mind raced to solve the mystery. I was trying to understand the connection between my son being in my bathroom when, last I knew, he was in his crib. Then, he told me that he pooped.

My bewilderment turned to panic.

My son has recently used his magic to remove his diaper several times a day.

Now, his magical toddler powers can propel him out of his crib.

Thank goodness, he was just making up the part about the poop today.

My daughter, who's now seven, never once climbed out of her crib, let alone took her diaper off. (Except once and it's a well-documented mess in the scrapbook.) She was magical in other ways, like being precious, adorable, cool and smart. My son's magical toddler powers, however, are far beyond what I've experienced. I fear for what other tricks my son has up his 2T sleeve.

It Came And Went ...

My 40th birthday, that is.

While it's still scary to see that number in writing knowing it's referring to my age, I must say that turning 40 really didn't hurt too badly. In fact, it was kind of just another day.

My hubby took me out to a boutique hotel for the Saturday night before the big day, giving us a chance to dine on fancy food in a dimly-lit restaurant and drink ultra-expensive cocktails at a swanky bar - sans children. We were back in the room by 10 p.m., I might add.

On the actual big day, though, I was still a mom who had kids to care for, chores to do and errands to run. Let's see, my littlest and I had lunch with my oldest at school. I went to the cleaners. I believe I even stopped for gas. (I'm so old, that I've already forgotten what I did on my birthday.) We had an early 5 p.m. dinner at a nice restaurant with my family, but I had to take a break in the middle to calm down my antsy, bored toddler (who didn't care that it was a big milestone birthday for me). I also had to run across the street to escort my daughter to her first choir practice. After dinner, I waited for her to finish her singing - all on my 40th.

Next up? My son's birthday. He'll turn two this Friday and that's exciting and terrifying at the same time.

There's been no real time to think or worry about the beginning of a new decade in my life. I've been busy, after all. I turned 40 and life just keeps going on. That's ok with me. It sure as hell beats the alternative.

Mind Your Own Damn Business (But Really, Thank You)

This summer has been pretty tiresome: having to entertain a seven-year-old and keep a 22-month-old occupied from early morning until 9 or 10 p.m. I struggle to find activities to keep my oldest's mind from being consumed by an iPad and I strive to find new experiences for my youngest that won't eventually require a trip to the ER (as he's into and onto EVERYTHING these days.)

Most days, one of our activities is simply going to the grocery store. It's not fun, but it takes up time, gets us out of the house and besides, I'm constantly forgetting things, so daily trips are almost a necessity. It's definitely a chore, though, because it requires me to sometimes force my reluctant, almost-two-year-old into his rear-facing carseat while he screams and cries for me to hold him. Then, after we survive a sometimes unpleasant drive to the store, it's another chore just to get out of the car. Inside, the nagging begins. My oldest whines for me to buy her this or that while my youngest begs me for snacks or to get out of the shopping cart. A trip to the store, or any trip where I have to think, is a true exercise in mental acuity: can I focus enough to get what I need done while my children are with me?

Yesterday was no different and the Texas heat certainly upped the ante.

I had a few bags with me - including last night's juicy rotisserie chicken that smelled quite good. Luckily, my daughter's old enough to get into the car by herself, but the rest of the exercise of getting back into the car is constant circus act. I, on the fly, have to come up with a strategy on how to turn the air conditioning on, get the groceries in the car, return the cart to the cart corral and get my son into his carseat.

As tried to quickly walk that tightrope before my son did something dangerous, I was too late. He stood up in the front part of the cart while I quickly, yet carefully, arranged the groceries into the car. This was all while I was looking away from him, mind you.

When I realized what he was doing, I grabbed him, moved the cart away just enough to open his door (and hoped it wouldn't crash into someone's car) and shoved him into his seat. My chicken dropped in the parking lot, juices went everywhere and I wondered if I had just lost my dinner - this is all after I saved my daredevil of a son from what could have been a nasty accident.

And as the 97 degree sun is beating down on me and frying my skin, I'm yelling at him the whole time. Admittedly, it was an embarrassing act on my part. I probably looked like the SAHM (stay-at-home-mom) who just didn't have her shit together.

Just then, a tall, put-together man, whom I assumed came out one of those ginormous, expensive pickup trucks, was walking into the store and clearly observed my mommy meltdown.

He never stopped, but said loudly while passing by, how my kids will leave the house one day and that I'll miss it. "Mine's 23," he said as he walked away. It was a stern warning, if you will.

Ok, my first thought was "eff you and mind you're own damn business." He didn't know how tired I was or how I had just saved my son from, what could have been, a bad accident. And, after all, my chicken dropped on the ground.

But, he was right.

My kids are getting older all the time. I do actually think of how one day, my house will be quiet of screaming, crying and laughing, young friends and sleepovers. It will be empty of their innocence. And even before that, these violent, scary times we live in don't guarantee us a tomorrow, so it's even more imperative to be kind to our kiddos even when they test our limits and cause us mental chaos.

Thanks for the reminder, dude. I think I needed it.

I Fear For My Children's Future

As I grieve with the rest of the country over what happened in Orlando last Sunday, I'm also consumed with fear. That fear is primarily focused on my children and their future

What sort of world will they grow up in? What sort of catastrophic events will they witness? Will they ever be touched by the evil that we're seeing now? Do they even have a future?

I've sobbed about these very questions and more on more than one occasion. What keeps my tears flowing is that this misguided hatred towards my American brothers and sisters - including my children - will never go away. And what's even more bleak, is that no one has any solutions to fix the problem. They're all afraid too, so it seems.

I now worry that as my daughter gains increasing independence, my fear will go beyond who she spends time with, where she's going and who's car is she riding in. I'll also wonder if she'll be a target at her school's next field trip to the zoo or whether she'll simply be at the wrong place at the wrong time when evil rears its ugly head again.

There's another, different fear that's specific for my young son.

It recently dawned on me that when he's 18, he'll have to register for Selective Service. Who knows what the state of our nation will be then, but there's a nagging thought in my head that one day, my son could be forced into war regardless of his choice. That scares me tremendously.

I've hugged my kiddos extra tightly these last few days in between moments of despair - thinking of the parents and loved ones left behind from Sunday's massacre. I'm somewhat at a loss on how to move forward, knowing that another attack on our culture, values and way of life is just a matter of time. The only thing that I can do is to love my kids hard and try to do so with patience, compassion and joy. None of that will protect me or my family from evil, but at least it will shift our main focus from fear to happiness.

My Son, The Social Butterfly

For months now, my soon-to-be-21-month-old has been my errand buddy. I take him everywhere: the store, the allergy clinic (for me), the dentist, my daughter's school, etc. And he's always been a hit. He's not only pretty damn cute (totally un-biased opinion), but he's such a social and seemingly outgoing little guy.

He loves to say "hi" and "bye" to everyone - sometimes, repeatedly. I'm always amazed that even the coolest of young people my son accosts almost always responds. I hold my breath internally to see whether or not he's ignored. I've felt sad for my little guy the few times that's happened (but it's usually not intentional on the other person's part.)

I think my older daughter gets annoyed and sometimes, we all are get a wee embarrassed (like when he recently yelled "I tooted" in a chapel during a music recital.)

Now, don't get me wrong. The Terrible Twos are rearing their ugly head already, so my son's "toddler maniac" moments are almost always mixed-in wherever we are. But, in between whining and screaming for a beverage, a snack or the opportunity to walk, I'm hoping his charming greetings and farewells remain.

A Liebster? Isn't that a cleaning product?

Wow! My beautiful friend Melissa Smuzynski nominated me for something that sounds like an award for the best housecleaner (which I'm so not.) She's a former TV journalist who used to pound the pavement in Dallas/Fort Worth covering the hottest news stories. That's how we met, in fact, when I was doing the same on the radio. She's moved above and beyond that glamorous life and is now a mama to an adorable one-year-old, a public relations pro, a blogger and her family's travel agent.

Melissa has a sharp, engaging and helpful blog called Parenthood and Passports.

https://parenthoodandpassports.com/

It chronicles her precious little family's travels to exotic and far away locales with vibrant photos for documentation. Not only are her stories and reviews great, but her tips for traveling with wee tots are quite useful too! Because her blog is so sweet, she recently won a Leibster Award. And, she's nominated me for one too!!!

Basically, it's not really an award, but more of a way to promote and support others in the blogging community. Melissa is way more of a skilled blogger than me, especially since I'm still very much a newbie. But, I appreciate her kindness and hope she'll teach me about living in the seemingly infinite blogosphere.

Since I chose to accept this award, one of my duties is to nominate other blogs which I deem to be pretty outta sight. Outside of Melissa, I have just a handful of friends who also blog (the other blogs I follow are massive and don't need much promotion), but the list is still too long for me to add here. So! I'll just nominate one of my faves: my beautiful mommy friend (and former TV reporter/anchor) Lindsay Wilcox and her stylish blog Purely Lovely Living. She tackles many topics from family to faith and does so through useful tips and meaningful thoughts.

http://www.purelylovelyliving.com/

Should Lindsay choose to accept the nomination, then she'll basically blog about it as I'm doing now. There are all kinds of rules out there, but since this isn't a real award, as long as we stick with the basics, we're good. She just needs to write about her award, include a link of the nominating person's blog, answer some fun questions and pay it forward by nominating other blogs.

My final duty as a Liebster Award recipient is to answer a set of questions given by Melissa. (Lindsay's are farther down below.) Some were easier to attack than others, but here goes!!

Questions:

How long have you been blogging and why did you start? Not even a month yet - at least on my own site. I used to write fairly often for the blog section of WBAP.com - the website of my former employer.

If you could go anywhere in the world you haven’t been yet, where would you go? Admittedly, I'm scared to travel these days. If we travel without our kids, I'm worried that we'll die in a plane crash and our kids will be orphans. If we travel with our kids, I'm worried that someone will die because because someone isn't behaving. (I'm kidding about that last part, but our most recent trip wasn't very fun because of a cranky baby.) ISIS, which has a knack for turning up just about anywhere, has me terrified too. But, if I could remove those fears, I'd love to visit Scandinavia. It looks so clean and the air seems so fresh. I hear people there are happy too. Tokyo would be a dream sometime, but the massive amount of people and blaring technology might be a bit overwhelming. 

What inspires you? Other moms. 

Best meal you’ve ever eaten? Room service breakfast at the Omni Championsgate in Orlando, FL. My husband and I had this unforgettable Frosted Flake-dipped French toast, warm, buttery scrambled eggs, salty, thick bacon, etc. It was during our honeymoon. We'd wake up every morning and the full spread would be waiting for us on a beautiful cart in the dining room of our suite. And perhaps the best part? We didn't have a pay a dime for any of it. (A story for another time.)

What is your biggest accomplishment? That's hard to say. It could be the time I had my first live TV standup on CNN! It could also be the birth of my two children. 

What is one goal that you are working toward now? I'm hoping that during this time of being a SAHM and dabbling in the blogosphere, I'll come up with a "2nd Act" for when my littles aren't so little anymore. Mama isn't going back to radio. Mama needs something new and exciting later on.

What is the one place you would revisit time and time again? It sounds weird, but Lafayette, LA. It reminds me of my childhood because I'd spend the summers and holidays there at my grandparents' ranch-style home complete with carport. The culture there is so laid back. I love hearing Zydeco because it's so simple and charming. Oh, and the food. Seriously. Cajun food there in the heart of Cajun Country ... I'll just leave that right there. 

What do you love most about parenthood? There are so many things. It's exhausting and at times, frustrating. It's terrifying, too, as I'm always self-doubting my parenting skills with my older one. But through the echoey shrieks down the hallway and the thuds of toys being slammed into the walls, I'm always thankful for our little buggers. They've really enhanced our lives tremendously. 

What is the most out of your comfort zone you’ve ever felt? Usually meeting new people. Thankfully, my career as a news reporter helped me conquer the majority of that discomfort. My kids and my ever-rising age have helped too. I mean, I've got two kids and am almost 40, so who gives a f$ck? I can do this. (It's kind of my new attitude.) 

What is your one non-essential item that you must bring with you when you travel? Slippers. I hate cold feet.

What is one piece of advice you would give to your younger self? Focus much more on school and stop worrying so dang much. 

Questions for Lindsay: 

What inspired you to start blogging?

What do you hope others take away from your blog?

What is the best thing about being a mom?

What is your favorite thing to do by yourself?

When chaos breaks out in your home (ie. kids screaming, crying, fighting), what's your secret weapon to handling it?

What is your biggest weakness when it comes to your kiddos?

What is your favorite thing to do with your family?

The Fart Bag And What It Represents

If you're my Facebook friend, then you probably saw this picture on my feed recently:

It was from a friend who's five-year-old son had recently taken a Sharpie to her $300 leather handbag and, well, wrote "FART." She posted it on her Facebook page because she was legitimately asking for advice on how to get rid of the gassy graffiti. 

I'll admit, I laughed my ass off when I saw this picture. As more and more people chimed in with a joke or with a genuine cleaning tip, it eventually got dubbed the "FART bag." 

While this nickname made me laugh even more, it also created a sense of dread and fear. I have a 20-month-old son who's beginning to show signs of being a daredevil and getting into things he shouldn't. 

With my daughter (who's now 7), the worst she ever did was cut a few pieces from her hair using fingernail scissors. She got into some lotion or diaper cream one time too and it ended up on her face. Overall, my daughter's shenanigans were pretty tame.  

Having a boy, though, is a whole new ballgame for my family. We're having to deal with couch-diving, furniture-climbing, playing in the catfood, page removal from books, getting water from the refrigerator dispenser (and getting it EVERYWHERE), etc. While his mischief is still pretty harmless, I fear that it's just a matter of time before my little angel creates a FART bag - or something similar - all by himself.

The differences between boys and girls are really amazing. I mean, sure, there are exceptions to the rule, but for the most part, boys are so much rougher and daring than the girls. It's like they're made of rubber and their slower-to-develop (than girls) brains are simply wired to get into trouble - a lot. Boys' naughtiness factor is instinctual. Even the potty humor starts early - again, instinctive, it seems. (Although my son's appreciation for fart jokes may have also come from me.)

On the flipside, it's also true that boys really are much more loving to their mamas than their girl counterparts. That part, I live for. The random hugs, calling my name and running to me when he's scared or sad ... you can't beat that. But, his inner-ornery is rearing it's tiny little head and I fear that a FART bag may one day be in my future. 

***Footnote: my friend was able to return her FART bag to just a bag, thanks to Magic Eraser.***

Nine Years Later ... Crazy!

Today is my wedding anniversary. It's crazy to think back to that crazy day nine years ago and then to look at my crazy life since then.

My husband and I won a dream wedding contest and I still look back at that time as though it really didn't happen. I mean, it really was a dream. (At least it felt like it!)

It was so easy to get wrapped up in the wedding planning, the cake-tastings, the dress-fittings, the TV segments (yep, we were on local TV), the bachelorette party (with the penis cake that really was delicious) and I must admit that I never really thought much about what it was all really supposed to be about. I'm an only child who lived alone for many years. So, the realization of living with someone and having to compromise often with that person really didn't kick-in until after my husband and I were wed. I had no expectations about what my life would become.

That leads me here today. Nine crazy, yet fulfilling years later.

And really, now that I think about it, there's nothing crazy about it.

It dawned on me in recent years that my husband and I have that deep kind of love you get when you've been with someone for a long time. I think it's also strong because of the bond we have through our kiddos. Our love is the real deal - the kind that keeps you together when you're so old and wrinkly that you don't leave fingerprints anymore. It's the kind of love that stays strong even when your partner passes wind and doesn't realize it. It's the kind of love that withstands conflict, stress and tragedy. It's the kind of loving relationship that I'm damn thankful for.

Life is definitely different now compared to nine years ago, as well it should be. We're not two anymore, but four (and some old lady cats.) We're tired, have way more gray hair, constantly take TV naps and can no longer have private conversations unless it's between 9 p.m. and 7 a.m. But, our lives and our love are richer for it.

I anticipate my future wedded years to be filled with with more belches at the table, smelly children, a messy house, microwave dinners (from me), piano-playing, guitar-playing, sports-playing, cropped-pants, t-shirts, tears, laughter, movies, wonder, hugs, piggy-back rides, family dance parties, special trips to Toys R'Us and rare date nights with the man I married almost a decade ago. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Prince And My Kids

So we all know by know that the Great Purple One has left this earth, making 2016 a bad year for losing cultural icons. Whether you were a fan from afar or a diehard fan from the get-go or maybe you didn't like Prince at all, it's hard to argue his immense talent. Prince had a real gift for making music (for himself and others) and his single-syllable name will never be forgotten - hopefully.

Geez. I'm still sad about the passing of David Bowie just a few months ago. He, of course, is another multi-instrumentalist and culturally-important artist who had a decades-long, successful career for a reason.

Both men seem oddly similar in more than a few ways, like their professional metamorphoses or their inclusion of different instruments in their music. Also similarly, they both run the risk of becoming increasingly insignificant to younger generations. That's both scary and sad.

I've made sure to introduce both of my kiddos - one, aged 7, and the other, aged 19-months - to both of these iconic musical geniuses and others who fit into this exclusive club. I want them to know these influential artisans and appreciate what joy, entertainment and memories that they brought to so many.

Sure, Prince was highly sexual in his look and in a lot of his song lyrics. (I mean, who can forget the assless pant suit he wore during his 1991 MTV VMA performance of "Gett Off?" And, have you ever paid attention the song's lyrics???) Bowie was overtly sexual too back in the very early days. His androgynous period which included enormous amounts of drugs and sex is nothing you'd hear on Radio Disney these days. But, both artists made some incredibly-wonderful, memorable songs, films and other art that will never - and should never - be replicated or forgotten.

That Jan. 10 morning when I went to check my iPhone as I do when I first wake up, I, along with the rest of the world, learned of David Bowie's passing and was utterly shocked. I wasn't a huge fan back in the day and didn't know much about his very early personas (that's all changed now), but I knew that his death meant the end of an era of sorts. After I rolled out of bed, I knew that Bowie would be played in the house as soon as the kids got up. I did just that and told my daughter that the man she was listening to died that day. A bit later, my 19-month-old and I boogied to some of his more danceable hits. (While not a dance song per se, when my littlest one hears "Ashes To Ashes," he looks me in the eye and starts doing his awkward, yet extremely adorable little baby dance.)

When Prince died this week, I made sure the kids knew of his music too by playing some of my favorites when my daughter came home from school. The next morning during her school's announcements, I was proud that the staff P.A. announcer mentioned Prince's passing. She then proceeded to play very short snippets of "1999" and "Let's Go Crazy." Great songs and classics, indeed.

Good for our kids. They need to be aware of these important artists from before their time, because after all, they are a part of history. And when us oldies are gone, who will keep these iconic artists "alive?"

My oldest knows who Elvis Presley is (especially "thank ya, thank ya very much") and "Coal Miner's Daughter" is in her music collection. She and I have danced like fairies to "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac and we're teaching her about The Beatles whenever a Beatles song comes on. I plan to keep on educating both of my kiddos about musical greats from bygone generations.

The bubblegum, overly-produced, radio-friendly garbage that's out these days will generally reign supreme to the young folk. That's fine so long as the guys and gals who paved the way for them are remembered for being the first and the best. 

Turning 40: My Inner Struggle To Do It

Here I sit broken-hearted ...

Well, not really (and that's the beginning of one of my most favorite potty-poems). While I'm not sad, I am freaking out a bit and it's kind of escalating.

You see, I'm about to do what millions/billions have done before me and what many more will do afterwards: I'm turning 40, the big 4-0, old fart, over-the-hill, etc. It's a scary number, but really, I think 39 is scarier. You feel like every day is your last before the dreaded day that you become four decades old.

As I approach that fateful date (Aug. 31, to be exact), the staring in the magnified mirror gets longer and longer - what can I erase or change next? Is it my melasma (damn that birth control and two pregnancies)? My crooked teeth (damn me for not wearing my retainer regularly post-braces)? My sun damage on my forearms (and damn me for not wearing sunscreen for so many years)? My wide a$$ and saddlebags? (Damn me for eating those three sugar cookies last night.)

While my fear and anxiety about turning 40 heightens with each day, something else is happening. It's almost becoming a strange battle within my 39-year-old-self.

A new voice has emerged and it's saying, "Eff it. You are who you are and stop throwing money down the drain trying to erase your myriad of imperfections." This new voice isn't all peace and love and telling me to love myself for who I am. In fact, it's kind of harsh.

"There are people fighting cancer right now. There are people who are going through unimaginable losses right now. There are people struggling to make ends meet right now. There are people in dangerous and abusive relationships right now."

This alternate voice is basically saying, "You're life's pretty good, so why would you want to change it in such a soulless, superficial way?"

This same voice is also saying, "Chica, you ain't a big pop star and don't make movies for a living, so why are you trying to look like the people who do?"

She's right, you know.

I'm turning 40. I have a funny baby and a sassy seven-year-old. We live in a nice house, I'm in good health and so far, my loved ones are all still with me. Here I am desperate to stop the clock - and for what? In the grand scheme of things, it really isn't worth it and thanks to the mean b&%$#@ in my head trying to knock some sense into me, I'm starting to just not care. I'm exhausted, after all!!

While I'll always have deep-seated anxieties about my imperfections that will never go away, I'm constantly being reminded that there are more important things in life to worry about than my insecurities. Who cares that I'm not all Hollywood-looking?

Now, I'm not throwing in the towel completely. I'll still go to the gym, wear sunscreen, whiten my teeth, get a tad of onabotulinumtoxinA squirted into my forehead on occasion and test out new beauty products, but I'm not going to kill myself chasing perfection - something that I will never attain.

Don't get me wrong. Turning 40 still scares the daylights outta me and my heels will be bloody by the time I get there, due to all the digging. But, I have a lot of more important things going on in my life that I'd like to keep going for another four decades, so why worry?

So, I'm Starting A Blog Which, I'm Certain, Will Drift Into The Abyss Of Other Mommy Blogs

So, I've been out of the news business for about a year now and I have this urge to write. 

Who cares, right? Probably no one. No one will read this and that's ok. But, I'm "doing me" as the young kids say. (I think.)

If you're into news radio and were in Houston in 2001 or in Dallas/Fort Worth from 2002 until 2015, then you may know my name. I was a street reporter for KTRH for a brief, yet wild year. Then, I headed back north to the big DFW to work on the streets for the big BAP, or WBAP. When we were bought out by Cumulus and moved to new digs, I eventually switched over to KLIF in a behind-the-scenes role as Producer of the KLIF News & Information in the Morning show. I said goodbye to radio and news last year to be a stay-at-home-mom. 

My many news adventures brought me to many different places and allowed me to cross paths with many different people. I wouldn't change those experiences for the world.

Now, I have new adventures. They're pretty fun and exciting, but totally different than my life in news. I'm no longer getting to meet dignitaries and celebs. I no longer get free rubber chicken meals in massive ballrooms. I no longer get that adrenaline rush with a breaking news story. I don't get to sit in courtroom galleries as a trial observer/reporter (and I still say that many of the trials that I've covered are FAR BETTER than your most favorite TV drama.) And, I don't get to chase tornadoes anymore or slip around on icy roads. (Thank the Lord.)

Life has definitely taken a dramatic turn these days with me turning into a SAHM. 

So, while I am for sure another SAHM needing an outlet for my thoughts, I'm surely not going to write about mom and kid stuff all the time. 

I feel like I've got a little crazy in my head that needs to get out. At times, I observe a little crazy that bears sharing too. So, that brings me to this: my blog.

While I've blogged before, I've never had my own blog. So, in a way, I kind of don't know what I'm doing. We'll see who's interested in the long term, but for now, this is just something I'm gonna do for me. (I think the kids say that too.) 

Note the old, pre-Botox and melasma Photo Booth pic. It's all I got and I hate reading things without lots of pictures.